The Love Child (12 page)

I caught my breath and put my hand to my throat. Harriet smiled 77

tenderly at me and went on: “I know how you are feeling. I share your anxiety. There is no suspicion in this household at the moment. I am sure of that. But If something should lead them here … Well, they would try and question … and I am not sure that our disguise would stand up to scrutiny.”

“Oh, Harriet, what can we do?”

“You can be sure I would take some action. I have been working on it and I am going to smuggle him to France. I think it is the only thing to be done. We are negotiating now and we hope to have arranged for a boat to take him by the end of the week. I wanted you to come and see him before he went.”

“Harriet,” I cried, “you are marvellous!”

I felt so emotional that I was afraid I would not be able to hold back my tears, so I threw myself at her and buried my face against her.

She touched my hair. I heard her say to Christabel: “This child has always been a special favourite of mine. Her mother did so much for me. It is something one never forgets.”

That helped me a great deal. It made me smile because I knew exactly how she was looking at that moment, posing, of course, as she always did. I often wondered how much of what she said she really meant. It didn’t matter. She was Harriet and she fascinated me cornpletely.

“There now,” she said, when she felt the scene had been played long enough, and I was now in control of my feelings, “we must be practical. You must not take too much notice of John Frisby … and yet on the other hand you must not ignore him. You must be interested, yet not too interested. You must be careful but not obviously so.”

“I think we understand, Lady Stevens,” said Christabel.

“Call me Harriet, my dear. Everybody does.” She turned to me. “I know your mother thinks I am the most unconventional being on earth and perhaps I am, but it does not stop people’s being fond of me. Isn’t that so, dear child?”

“You are the dearest person in the world,” I said with vehement gratitude, “and everybody loves you.”

“You see how this Priscilla flatters me!” She was smiting at Christabel now. “Never mind. It shows that she loves me.”

“Oh, Harriet, dear, dear Harriet, how can we thank you for all you have done!”

“I had to do it. Leigh would have wanted to know the reason why if I had not. I am afraid of that forceful son of mine, Christabel.”

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“I cannot believe that you would ever be afraid of anything,” answered Christabel.

“Well,” said Harriet, “I must not linger too long. You will want to change and then we’ll dine … without ceremony. Gregory will be back for dinner. He should be in shortly. He is helping with the arrangements to get John out to safety. He can stay in France until this nonsense is over, and Gregory says that will soon be. This time next year he reckons it will be forgotten. Come down when you are changed.”

She turned to the door and whispered: “Don’t forget. Careful where John Frisby is concerned. I must go along now and whisper a word of caution in his ear. I thought he looked rather like a lovesick Romeo when his eyes fell on you. Romantic and beautiful to behold but highly undesirable in the circumstances.”

She went out, leaving Christabel and me together.

“What a beautiful woman!” cried Christabel. “I never saw anyone like her before.”

“No one has,” I said. “There never has been anyone like Harriet.”

What a wonderful evening that was! It is one which I shall remember forever. We ate in a small room which was used when the family were alone, as we did at home in the winter parlour. It was lit by candlelight which threw shadows on the tapestries of sylvan scenes which hung on the panelled walls and gave them an air of mystery.

Gregory had returned. He was a tall, quiet man who seemed perpetually surprised at his good fortune in marrying such a da/zling creature as Harriet. He was completely her slave. I was sure that the smuggling of a wanted man to France was something he himself would never have undertaken if it had not been her wish that he should do so. He was the sort of man who would have lived to a set of rules from which he had never diverged until he had met Harriet.

I often wondered why she had married him. But she was fond of him as far as she could be fond of anyone, and it was a singularly successful marriage.

Now he was involved in this matter with her and it was one which could bring trouble to his house, and yet cheerfully he undertook what was expected of him because Harriet was the one who expected it.

He sat at one end of the table, Harriet at the other. She had placed Jocelyn on her right hand, I was on her left, so he and I were opposite and could gaze contentedly at each other throughout the meal.

While the servants were bringing in the dishes and serving us, the 79

conversation was of Court matters. The King was seen everywhere with the Queen, Gregory told us. It was his answer to those who accused her of being concerned in the Popish Plot and of planning the death of her husband.

“Dear good lady,” said Gregory, “it was the most foolish accusation to bring against her. What has she ever been but a good and loyal wife to him?”

“And brought him Bombay and Tangiers into the bargain,” cried Harriet. “My dear Gregory, I could bring you nothing like that.”

“You brought me yourself,” he answered, like the gallant lover he was, “and that was all I wanted.”

She blew a kiss to him across the table. I wondered if she were faithful to him.

I knew that she was the sort of woman who would not hesitate to take a lover if the whim came to her. But she would always do it carefully and in a manner to bring the least unhappiness to Gregory. One would always make excuses for Harriet when one was with her. But there was nothing to make excuses for now.

Gregory talked of the theatres and who was playing what and where.

“We’ve never had one to replace Nell Gwyn,” he said. “There are some who regret the King ever saw her and took her away from the stage.”

“I doubt Nelly would agree with that,” put in Harriet. “She has a great gift but I’m not sure that it was for acting. It was the way she laughed, the way she danced … It was inevitable that some connoisseur of women would see that one day. I liked her. Everybody did … except those who were jealous of her. People still like her in spite of her good fortune, for she was never one to give herself airs.”

“She is urging the King to set up a royal hospital at Chelsea for aged and disabled soldiers,” said Gregory. “They say he is interested in the scheme. She is one to ask for others rather than herself.”

“A rare quality,” said Christabel.

“And one to be applauded,” put in Jocelyn.

“We of the theatre owe a great deal to her,” said Harriet with a grimace at Jocelyn.

“Oh, indeed,” agreed Jocelyn, “I remember…”

Harriet silenced him with a look. “For the benefit of anyone with an ear to the keyhole,”

she whispered to me, “I have to watch those reminiscences of the theatre in that direction. I couldn’t have chosen a worse profession for him. It was a good thing I arranged that he should be a child actor who did not fulfill his early promise.”

Gregory was saying: “Nelly and Monmouth are not good friends.”

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“Of course not,” agreed Harriet. “She thinks he has his eye on the throne and she can’t bear to contemplate his ever reaching it, for that would mean the death of Charles.”

“She has given him a nickname and called him Prince Perkin,” went on Gregory.

“Plainly referring to Perkin Warbeck, who claimed a throne to which he had no right,”

added Harriet.

“He retaliated by asking in public how his father can have such a low-bred creature constantly in his company. Then she reminded him that his mother, Lucy Walter, was no better bred than she was. You see, it’s a regular battle between them, though they both stand for the Protestant side.”

“I know she calls herself the Protestant Whore. Forgive me, dear ladies.” Harriet smiled at Christabel and me. “But the Court is far from pure and that means we have to be a little impure when speaking of it. It’s a real turmoil of opinions, and I reckon that when the King does die there’ll be trouble once more. So … a health unto His Majesty.”

The talk went on but what I wanted to hear were the plans for Jocelyn and that, of course, was something which could not be discussed at table. Nor would Harriet allow me to be alone with Jocelyn. She believed at the moment that all was well and that no one suspected that Jocelyn was anything but what he claimed to be; and no one in the household, apart from herself and Gregory, must know that Jocelyn and I had met before.

“We went over to the Eyot a few weeks ago,” she said. “It was a beautifully calm and pleasant day. John knows how to handle a pair of oars with real skill. You could row the ladies over tomorrow, John, if the weather is good.”

“I should love to go,” I said, my eyes shining as I realized Harriet was making our opportunity for us.

“Then we’ll pray for a calm day,” said Harriet. “I’ll have a basket of delicacies prepared for you. There are some really sheltered places among the ruins and you can imagine that the ghosts of the monks are looking after you. Mind you, I don’t think they’ll appear by day, do you, Gregory?”

Gregory said he doubted they appeared even at night, but according to popular belief they did.

I was longing to be alone with Jocelyn, to talk to him, to make our plans. I wondered where he would go when he reached France. I could see how dangerous it was for us to be too much together, or to

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talk of these matters in the house. I had to behave as though I had never met Jocelyn before and that was not easy.

I was too excited to sleep when I retired to my room. I put on a dressing gown and was combing my hair when I received the first of my visitors. It was Christabel.

She had changed back to the Christabel she had been when she first came to Eversleigh.

That radiant girl I had briefly glimpsed had retreated behind the mask, and there she was with her expressionless eyes and that mobile mouth which was a traitor to her.

She sat down. “May I stay and talk just for a few minutes?” she asked.

“But of course.”

“It’s been such a day … strange and exciting. I think Harriet is the most unusual woman I have ever seen. She is absolutely beautiful and so attractive. I was thinking while I was watching her that she is everything that I am not. I realize how gauche and plain I am when I see her.”

“We all feel that beside Harriet.”

“It’s unfair that some of us …” That little quirk of the mouth was obvious though she sought to control it. She went on: “Some people are born with everything and others …”

“Harriet wasn’t. She was poor, I believe. I think my mother said she was the illegitimate daughter of a strolling player and a village girl. My mother said that one could never be sure whether Harriet was romancing. However, I am sure she did make her way in the world.”

“Illegitimate! Harriet!”

“So my mother said. I shall know all about it one day when I read my mother’s journal.

Harriet would always get what she wanted though.”

“She has those exceptional good looks.”

“Yes, but it is more than looks. It’s her personality, her vital self. I think she’s wonderful. She can be unscrupulous, but somehow you forgive all that. I suppose anyone would forgive Harriet anything. My mother forgave her long ago. I don’t think my father ever did. He’s different… .”

I paused and Christabel said: “So we are going to the Eyot with Jocelyn tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I replied. “There we shall be able to talk freely. He will be going away soon.

Harriet is wonderful to have helped us so much.”

“How lucky you are, Priscilla. Things turn out well for you, don’t they? When I think of what your life must have been like … born

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into that beautiful household and your mother loving you as she did and old Sally Nullens clucking over you … and then this romantic lover comes along and it all works out beautifully… for you.”

“But he has to go to France. His life is in danger.”

“It’ll be all right … because it’s your life. Some people don’t have the luck.”

The excitement of seeing Jocelyn, my pleasure in being here, was dampened a little.

She had reminded me of Edwin’s going away and that my mother had arranged it, as I was sure she had. No, life was not going smoothly for poor Christabel, for Edwin was not the sort to go against convention. He was a young man who wanted to sail through life without conflict. He hated to disappoint people. I think he would rather be disappointed himself.

Christabel said: “I won’t stay. You must be tired. Let’s hope it is fine tomorrow.”

I did not attempt to detain her.

It must have been five minutes later when Harriet came in. She looked strikingly lovely in a loose gown of blue trimmed with yards and yards of ribbon.

“Not asleep?” she said. “I guessed you would not be. Too excited, I’m sure. I am so glad you came before he went. It will give you a little time to be together. Two young people in love! It’s your first love affair, eh? Does your mother know?”

“No. I cannot imagine what she would say. She thinks of me as a child.”

“Darling Arabella! She was always so easily deceived. She didn’t understand me one little bit. But I owe her a great deal. My life took a change when I arrived with a band of strolling players at the chateau where she was in exile. But you’ll know about that one day. I had my first lover when I was about your age … a little younger perhaps; I was living in a large house where my mother was housekeeper-companion to an old squire who adored her, and one of his friends took a fancy to me. He had charm and though he seemed ancient to me, I liked him. Not as romantic as your dear Frisby, of course, but he taught me a great deal about love and life and I have always been grateful to him.”

“It’s like you to be understanding, Harriet,” I said. “You always have been. You see, it happened so suddenly.”

“It often does.”

“We were in the cave…”

“I know. He told me. He adores you. I know exactly what it is 83